


the stars should see you shine (shining bright despite the plight)

by redlondons



Category: A Darker Shade of Magic
Genre: F/M, Fade to Black, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 03:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlondons/pseuds/redlondons
Summary: Holland/Okja goodness. Holland falls in love with his best (and only) knight.





	the stars should see you shine (shining bright despite the plight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dendritic_Trees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dendritic_Trees/gifts).



> Nothing graphic. Just some Holland/Okja cuddles and sparring and all that.

Holland’s hair is dark again. Okja’s eye is black now. 

 

*~*~*

 

She is the only person he will take his meals with. He created her magic and he knows there is no greater gift in this dying world of theirs. 

 

The  _ oshoc _ is quiet in his head tonight. They eat a simple meal of chicken and pasta. It feels good, Okja tastes his food for him, poisoners are still a problem to be considerate of. The people love him, but… there are those who want to fight to the last drop of magic. 

 

Holland and Okja said little. What is there to be said? 

 

Holland washed down his food with a glass of wine. A few days ago he’d cut his hand in the kitchen (not on purpose) and the beast residing in his head had roared to life. Magic poured from him like blood from an artery. The  _ oshoc _ had poured forth magic and the kitchen had filled with food and clean water. Chicken, beef, pork, lamb and fish; rice, pasta, quinoa; red and white wine of various vintages; you name it, it was there. Holland had made himself scarce that day. 

 

“You want to have a dance?” Okja asked. 

 

Holland felt something in his chest squeeze. He had never danced with anyone, even Talya, musicians weren’t exactly an important part of a place like White London. 

 

He bit his lip, “no thanks, I have paperwork to be seen to.” 

 

Okja bowed her head, “perhaps you’d like to spar then.”

 

Holland was caught off guard, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

 

“Oh, please, Holland,” she said and smirked mischievously.

 

He flushed slightly, “it would be ungentlemanly of me.” 

 

Ojka frowned but nodded. 

 

He wondered… he really hoped his best knight wasn’t getting feelings for him. He really didn’t want that. Anytime he’d ever cared for someone they’d died a horrible death. 

 

He excused himself and didn’t hear from Ojka until the next day. 

 

*~*~*

 

It was freezing. He couldn’t get warm. He’d dismissed the court and his guards. It felt like very early spring. Still, Makt was not known for its warmth. 

 

He cut his hand into the grate with a thin blade and the fire burned bright. He actually stumbled back a bit and then realized he’d stumbled into someone. 

 

“Okja!” Holland stammered 

 

“Holland.” Okja said evenly. 

 

“Are you ok?” He asked. 

 

“The people are calling for a demonstration, they’re freezing.” 

 

He grumbled, “yes, of course.” 

 

He went out into the square, heavily surrounded by guards. 

 

He made a deep cut in his hand and let the magic spring forth. Instantly it warmed and the sun came out from the clouds. The Sijlt’s ice floes broke. The people cheered and the  _ oshoc  _ in his head whispered,  _ more, more, more _ .

 

Holland didn’t realize it but he’d cut himself a little too deep. It didn’t hurt but he felt lightheaded and he knew that the spectacle would be ruined if he passed out. So he bid the people goodbye and retreated back to the castle. 

 

Ojka spring from the shadows, “you look very pale, Your Royal Highness.” 

 

She always called him that when they were in public. She had to. He preferred a simple ‘Holland’. 

 

“I cut myself a bit deep out there,” he walked to the throne room with her. 

 

“I’ll get supplies to stitch your hand.” 

 

“It will heal. Just…” that was all Holland said before he passed out in Okja’s arms. 

 

*~*~* 

 

Holland woke up, slightly disoriented. There was a warm body in the bed with him… The last thing he remembered was Okja catching him as he passed out. He saw her red hair splayed out on the pillow. What the hell had she been thinking? 

 

He hadn’t… he didn’t remember. 

 

He slid out of bed and realized there was a roaring fire in the fireplace and Okja was looking at him. 

 

“I… uh… we didn’t?” 

 

She rubbed her eyes and ruffled her beautiful long red hair. Holland felt his heart give a painful leap… She was wearing his shirt. “No, Holland. I would never without your consent.” 

 

He laughed nervously. “But you thought it was… fine… to get in my bed with me in broad daylight and wear my shirt?” 

 

“Holland look out the window it’s near midnight, you were out for hours.” 

 

Holland gulped. He couldn’t sleep! It just wasn’t an option. 

 

“Don’t let me sleep,” he said starting to pace, “and give me my shirt back!” He huffed.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Okja said. 

 

Holland ran a hand through his black hair. It was going to go grey again if Okja didn’t start acting more like a lady. 

 

“You cannot do this!” Holland barked, it came out harsher than he meant it. “I am the King!” Ugh! That sounded horrible, he didn’t want to be king, he didn’t want to force rank on the woman he was slowly falling in love with. 

 

She got out of bed slowly, she was wearing her own trousers, thank every single god there had ever been! But she started unbuttoning the shirt and he closed his eyes. 

 

He heard the shirt drop to the floor and only opened his eyes when he heard the click of his door. 

 

She’d left her lacy little bra for him… what the… 

 

*~*~* 

 

Holland’s hand was fine. He’d had to take the stitches out of it because it had healed faster than the dissolvable stitches had been able to dissolve. 

 

It had been three days since he’d fallen asleep in Okja’s arms. His heart seemed to leap into his throat every time he thought about being alone with her. 

 

He’d taken simple meals in his room. He was avoiding her. 

 

He was passing by the training room and he saw Okja sparring. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she had wrapped her wrists. The man who was sparring against her was one of the city’s best fighters. He watched… she was like lightning. She struck blows that were fast and deadly, he inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the training room. 

 

Everyone went silent and bowed their heads. Damn everything he hated that! 

 

“Spar with me Okja…?” He suggested. 

 

“Of course, Your Royal Highness.” 

 

He wrapped his wrists and waved the rest of the people in the room off. The room cleared and he stepped up to her. 

 

“Let’s go.” Holland commanded. 

 

Okja threw a punch straight for his sternum but Holland twirled away. Holland advanced on her and jabbed for her belly button. She was faster than him though and sidestepped him, then jabbed his shoulder. He felt the blow, staggered back a few inches and ducked down to the dirt floor and swept her legs out from underneath her. It was one of his favorite moves. She didn’t stay down though. She popped back up and landed a harsh blow on his ribs. He stepped into the blow and elbowed her clavicle. 

 

She went down and he crouched to his knees and offered her a hand up, she took it… and pulled him down on top of her. 

 

He tried to roll off her but her calloused hands touched his cheek and he was glued to the spot.

 

“Kiss me, you fool.” 

 

Holland didn’t need to think about it, she made his heart squeeze in a way it hadn’t since… well he didn’t want to think about that. He leaned in, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. She’s wonderfully responsive under his touch, she allowed him access to her mouth and he explored greedily. It had been far too long. Probably close to ten years. Holland nipped Okja’s bottom lip and brought it into his mouth, he worried the soft flesh of her lip in his mouth, and she dug her fingers into his bicep. 

 

Gods! She was beautiful. He didn’t dare go further than this though. He refused to use her and kissing her on the dirt floor was… coming too close. 

 

“Come with me,” he said, and broke the kiss. 

 

*~*~* 

 

The next morning they slept in. Okja woke up to Holland holding her closely under a mountain of blankets. She was happy, she knew she had been bold with him, knew she probably shouldn’t have slept with the king, but she refused to think of it as a bad thing. 

  
  



End file.
